


Much Obliged

by FaceImplosion, HeadImplosion (FaceImplosion)



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27132530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceImplosion/pseuds/FaceImplosion, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceImplosion/pseuds/HeadImplosion
Summary: A classified documentary entailing the interactions of a clueless adventurer and a relentless contractor.A piece of fanfiction featuring A Hat in Time's Snatcher.
Relationships: Snatcher (A Hat in Time)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

Manipulative. Guilt-tripping. Treacherous. Condescending. Wicked.

There are many words to describe him, but a single title can easily encompass all of these traits. Sadly, only a handful of people ever hear of this word, and even fewer survived to tell of his name. The mere idea of "him" brings more suffering and trauma than I have thought possible upon the lucky survivors.

I cannot help but think of the classic play of the one whose name must not be uttered.

I write in this journal in hopes of being one of those few to escape unscathed, though I am not certain if this book will ever see the light of day.

His name is--


	2. Chapter 1: Stranded by the Unknown

"...Boss?"

I parrot that word cluelessly as the hooded figure continues, "Don't ask me, that's what I heard back there. Keep hearin' the word every time I visit that forest. Prolly the echoes or somethin'. I dunno."

I observe my interviewee closely, noting his habit of twirling the butterfly knife and clicking his tongue. He may sound unfazed by the experience, but his actions tell another story. I flick my pencil and hastily jot my thoughts and inferences down in a pocket-sized notebook before I hear him speak up again.

"...Is that a notebook?"

"It is," I hum flatly in response as I continue to scribble away. Three hundred and eighty-four interviews and counting, but hardly any of them yield a shred of useful information. I dig into the satchel around my waist and reach for an eraser only to grab a sturdy metallic object. My remote-control teleporter. It must have been a mix up with my tools again. I stuff it back carelessly and scratch a couple of misspellings in my notes.

"What's it for?"

I glance up from my writing to see the stranger raising an eyebrow, his eyes fixated on the notes I held. What for? Is it not obvious, sir? It takes a few seconds for me to realize the context of his question, and I mouth a silent "oh".

"A bit of a habit. I find that muscle memory helps," I confess.

Considering that I have used considerably advanced transportation to arrive at an interstellar docking station consisting of nothing but state-of-the-art technology, I suppose using outdated analogous writing implements may have raised an eye or two.

I simply prefer pens and actual books to so-called "e-books" and hologram journals. I obtained a holo-journal earlier from the guests' lounge as a precaution, but only under dire circumstances will I even remotely consider the possibility of resorting to a digital diary.

The hooded figure in front of me tilts his head a bit. I suppose he may be slightly intrigued by my unorthodox choice of tools.

"That's funny. I like 'em real books and whatnot," he remarks loudly to my surprise. He must have seen my face as he chuckles heartily, and my eyes widen at his words and change of demeanor.

He flicks his knife again before stuffing it back somewhere in his robes. "You're a weird one. But I like that. Don't find a lot like ye 'round 'ere."

Silence eventually trickles in as I choose to shrug his comment off. I slide the notebook back into my right pocket and thank the stranger for agreeing to the interview.

"Naw, it's no big deal. Don't have to be so uptight about it. Just ask away," he replies cheerfully. I simply nod, having nothing useful left to add to the conversation.

A series of whirs and clicks resounds behind me, and I turn around to see a heavily armored individual striding over in my direction. The hooded stranger straightens his posture and steps back defensively. I raise a hand towards him in reassurance, and I extend a hand towards the new arrival.

"You must be... the bounty hunter Silver Bullet, correct?" I ask in almost perfect confidence. Surely my sources cannot be wrong about this person. Well, not this time at the very least.

The armored stranger slowly takes off the visor, revealing a young dark face with a sharp gaze that feels like it could pierce souls. In that instant, I feel the tension in the room dissipate slowly but steadily, and my intuition has been proven to be on point once more.

"Wayen, is it?" Silver Bullet responds in kind, shaking my hand as I nod affirmatively.

"Oh, thank the stars. It ain't _them_ ," I hear the hooded figure heave a heavy sigh behind me. The hunter simply cocks her head and glances behind me, a corner of her mouth rising a bit.

"If it isn't the fabled Starshooter. It's an honor to meet you."

"Gah, I don't live up to that title no more. Nowadays, I'm just a plain ol' Stargazer, heh heh."

I whip my notebook out once more to discreetly record these startling revelations and morsels of information. The earlier tension has completely subsided by now, and their earlier banter has snowballed into a full-blown conversation between seemingly good, old friends.

As much as I do appreciate the occasional chitchat and rekindling of old memories, I do have a schedule to follow, and the sheer number of interviews I am required to conduct will not allow for casual idle banter. I dig a free hand into the purple satchel hanging from my waist and pull a leather-bound book out of it, reviewing the schedule for today.

"Shouldn't ye be keeping an eye on those troublemakin' Timekeepers?"

"I have been, and there isn't anything to report... yet."

"'Yet'? Out with it now, Silver. Spill it."

I cannot help but find myself latched onto their conversation leaking with juicy intel. I feel the itch to jot it down, but my sixth sense tells me not to make a show of it. Instead, I continue to skim through the leather book's pages and glance through its contents randomly in order to appear busy. I hear a mystified Silver Bullet continue her elaboration.

"There were several reports of anomalies detected in that subsystem, but investigation so far has yet to yield any substantial evidence."

"Evidence? How're they s'posed to find evidence when just about errybody can undo it? By the time they get there, there's nothing to see and nothing to do."

"That's... unfortunately to be expected. I'll have to do my own research at the scene of the crime at least."

The hooded figure shakes his head and shrugs, pointing out, "Sorry, Sil. Already done that. Just checked out the last place on that planet, and it's nothin' but a wasteland."

He turns and nods at me, and I feel the hunter's gaze fall on me.

"I already told that girl der what I saw. She can fill ye in."

Instinct instructs me to bow slightly and nod at the hunter while I take the time to straighten my clothes and hair. I suppose my nervousness is due to the fact that I am standing in the same room with two veteran soldiers whose legacies have given way to universal fame and exaggerated legends.

"That's why I'm here, actually," the Silver Bullet speaks up, now facing me, and the hooded figure switches quick glances between the hunter and I. "Why don't you come on to my ship? It'll take a while to fully restock and refuel before departure."

Incredible. Our of nowhere, the chance to explore a famous bounty hunter's ship has been thrusted into my hands. I whisper a prayer of thanks and straighten my posture, answering in renewed enthusiasm and delight, and resist the urge to salute her the way a soldier does.

"It would be an honor."

**===**

The Silver Bullet, the Starshooter, and a hobbyist journalist. One of these is not like the others.

As you may have already guessed, my name is Wayen. My endless inquisitiveness and pursuit for knowledge have brought me through a variety of environments. Hopping from star system to star system, I visit every possible station and planet in search of valuable data and potential interviewees.

What is the purpose of all this? I have asked myself that countless times, and I am certain you would have already thought of that by now.

Must I truly have a reason to satiate the everlasting hunger for knowledge? I simply follow my instincts and venture into the unknown. It excites me. The unknown is an enigmatic force that has captivated me with its enigma, and I have spent my years chasing after it.

These years of hardship and experience have taught me many valuable lessons. There are those who agree to my questioning and those who flee from me. A handful proved to be challenging to convince, and there were times when my life simply dangled precariously in the rugged hands of an agitated brawler.

Having met one of the galaxy's most famous hunters, I prepared myself to run into several walls. I expected all sorts of dissuasion, threats and relentless berating on the nature of my job, especially from those hardened by battle and trauma. What I did not expect was the easygoing attitude and the generosity of the famous bounty hunter who is more well known for efficiently eliminating her targets.

I find myself at a momentary loss for words. Clearly, my sources were not very reliable. My lack of a response prompts the bounty hunter to wave a hand in front of my face.

"You okay?"

I take a moment to compose myself before nodding my head hastily and replying, "Oh, um, yes. Yes, I am. It is just that I need to... digest some information."

"Overwhelmed by everything that's happening now? Like having a leisurely chat with the Silver Bullet?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

The Silver Bullet shakes her head as she chuckles quietly.

"Some advice for you. Try not to make yourself like an open book. You're quite easy to read especially with those reactions. I figured you wanted to explore that barren forest for yourself."

Ah, blast it all. I have done it again.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up over it. Sometimes, it's much easier to convey thoughts through expressions than words."

I am quite literally being read like an open book. Her sharp intuition and insight has served her well in her missions; so much that these traits have earned her the title of the Silver Bullet.

"What if the armor was made of a different material? Say titanium or bronze? Bronze Bullet...?" I wonder to myself a little too loudly. The realization only dawns on me later as I slowly place hand over my mouth and glance at the hunter who now wears an amused smile.

"I... need to work on that," I mutter sheepishly.

Before I can sneak in another self-deprecating remark, a snarky voice blares through the ship's speakers.

" _Hey, Silver. Restock's done. Can we go now?_ "

It occurs to me, albeit a bit slowly, that I have indeed heard of this voice somewhere, and that I have not thought of how or what to call the hunter herself (I dare not to use her nickname in front of her). She grabs her visor and answers into its communications port, "All right, give me a few minutes before we fly."

Having heard their brief banter, I scribble the last of my notes away in my book before stashing it away in my satchel. I would truly have loved to spend more time with the Silver Bullet on her ship, but all good things have to come to an end. I walk up to her and extend my hand once more.

"Thank you so much for making the time and agreeing to the interview."

"Wait, you're not coming with us?"

"...Huh?"

My train of thought comes to an abrupt halt, and I can only stare at Silver who simply raises an eyebrow in confusion.

"Go with you? To where?" I speak up, mustering the courage to break the awkward silence. It take a while before it finally clicks for both of us.

"O-Oh," I stutter. "Is this really okay? I can always get my own transportation."

"...Uh..."

Silence fills the room once more, and a sense of uneasiness drapes over me. For a sharp intuitive hunter, I find it odd for her to ask on such a manner. It is only until I catch a glimpse of her eyes gazing elsewhere that dread settles in, and I slowly turn around to follow her line of sight.

The station where I met the hooded stranger looks beautiful. And distant.

I panic.

"Oh, heavens, no. I..."

I feel the cool surface of glass press against my cheeks as the outline of my own ship continues to shrink with the station. Biting my lip, various thoughts ricocheted off the walls of my mind as I attempt to draft a plan for... something helpful.

A despondent exhale escapes me as I sink onto the floor. There goes my plans to enjoy a day off. A couple of voices murmur inaudibly behind me, and I crane my neck to find Silver muttering something into her visor before she waks over to me.

Must I always cause trouble for someone?

"Wayen?"

I scramble to my feet. "Yes?"

"Good news or bad news first?"

I bite my lips in anticipation. "Bad news."

"It may take a few hours or days to get your ship back."

The possibility of never getting it back is something I refuse to accept. At the very least, I am guaranteed to have a way back. I simply nod.

"I see. What is the good news?"

"We're approaching the planet you wanted to visit sooner that expected."

Suddenly, the idea of visiting the planet seems all but appealing now. The missing comfort of my own ship to return to has soured my longing to embark on an adventure.

"We'll leave your ship to orbit the planet once we get it. Do you have your teleporter with you?" the bounty hunter asks.

Teleporter? I make it not a habit to bring it with me, since I have always walked straight back into my ship after interview.

My eyes widen as I feel a certain metal object in my satchel. Of course. I hurriedly extract it and exhale in relief upon laying my eyes on my teleporter. For once, instead of cursing, I speak words of thanks (to the omnipresent entity I often berate) for the slip up.

"That's good to know," Silver speaks up with a small smile on her face. At least there is some saving grace and hope to hold on for now.

Like looming clouds covering the sun, my newfound hope is clouded when a monotonous voice announces flatly, " _Now nearing destination_."

I feel each and every heartbeat pulse and pound away in my chest, and I struggle to suppress the nervousness rising in my stomach. I am clearly in no way, shape or form prepared for an unforeseen event such as this.

However, it would be out of the question to outstay my welcome, and I cannot impose a burden on them anymore. Gathering my resolve and clenching my fists, I look at Silver confidently in the eye and utter words I thought I would never say.

"Drop me there, please."

**===**

"There's another one in the sky, Boss."

"Again? It better not be _her_ again."

"No, this one looks different. It looks... scary."

"...All right, get back into your houses. I'll go look."

"Sure thing, Boss!"

Grumbling and muttering a variety of profanities to himself, the entity slithers through the branches of bare trees and lands atop an enormous mushroom. He lays his luminescent eyes on the flying object in the sky, its appearance blotted dark by the light of the moon. His scowl turns into a fanged grin as he rubs his hands together and chuckles maliciously to himself.

"These **_fools_** just don't learn, do they?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Wayen is a play on (Y/N) (your name. To clarify, the protagonist's name is still Wayen and not something to be substituted. She is an original character for this story only.


End file.
